


A Promise

by alafaye



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-22
Updated: 2016-06-22
Packaged: 2018-07-16 17:22:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7277059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alafaye/pseuds/alafaye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock and John were friends in school, but now their paths are diverging. Sherlock is willing to do anything to keep John, but John has a better plan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Promise

**Author's Note:**

  * For [verdant_fire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/verdant_fire/gifts).



> Written for verdant_fire at the 2016 summer holmestice. First posted [there](http://holmestice.livejournal.com/398507.html).

The letter from the office was shining bright against the window. John was smiling, unable to sleep because of the excitement. Tomorrow, he was going to report in and get out of here, away from his mother and sister. The dead end job that had been reserved for him -- offered because the manager of the factory had a soft spot for "Old Jim's boy". 

John was going to become a doctor. He was going to do some good in the world.

A hand waving at the window made him blink. A moment later, a head followed. John sighed. "Sherlock," he hissed. He hurried to the window to open it before Sherlock could make any more noise and wake either John's sister or mom.

"What are you--mmph!" John stumbled backward when Sherlock lifted himself through the opening and kissed him.

Sherlock Holmes. John's best friend for three years. Asexual Sherlock Holmes.

"Tonight's your last night here," Sherlock announced as he abruptly ended the kiss. It was as if during the kiss, they'd been talking. Knowing Sherlock, John was probably right. "We have to make the most of it. Your mom and sister each had a whole bottle of sherry before I got here."

John frowned. "Wait, what? There's no way... Harry wouldn't... And what do you mean, before you got here? Were you watching us?"

Sherlock waved his hand, uninterested. He pulled himself into the room using John's desk. "I was making sure we wouldn't be interrupted."

"Doing what?" John asked, still confused.

"Sex," Sherlock announced, standing in John's room.

John blinked. Sex? Sex. Sherlock. Sex. He opened his mouth. Closed it. Took a few steps back and sat down on his bed.

Sherlock beamed and pulled his shirt off. "Exactly, John. You've got it. Come on, now. We don't have much time."

"Sherlock!" John hissed. "We can't... You're... I'm..."

Sherlock sighed. "I don't like sex. You prefer women, but have a tendency toward men. What did I miss?"

Blushing, John stood, finger pointed at Sherlock. "How about the fact that you don't want sex? Ever?"

"It's the only way to make sure you come home to me!"

The silence that fell seemed to ring with Sherlock's announcement.

Pieces of a puzzle fell together with sudden clarity for John. Sherlock's attitude ever since John volunteered. The way he pulled away. His visible hurt. John rolled his eyes heavenward. "Sherlock Holmes, you are the most... I'll write. I promise. When I get leave, I'll let you know."

Sherlock's shoulders hunched down. "But what if you meet someone?"

John bit his lip, looking around his room. His eyes lit on his father's pocket watch. He picked it up, turning it over in his hands. It'd belonged to his grandfather, a man whom John missed so much even now. He hadn't known him long, but he was the inspiration for so much in John's life. He held it out to Sherlock. "Keep it safe for me. Treat it with care and I'll come back for it and you because you'll have it."

Sherlock's eyes were wide, cradling the watch in his hands. "But..."

John smiled. "So you know I'll come home."

"To me."

"To you."

~~~

Sherlock turned the watch over and over in his hands. He should have his mind on the experiment, but John was due any minute. So many years apart. Their e-mails had become few and far between, the vast sand of the desert preventing more. John hadn't just become a doctor; he'd become a solider as well. He was talented, skilled, and in demand. Mycroft had dropped enough hints that Sherlock knew that John was often in danger; if John hadn't been shot, he'd still be out there.

Sherlock opened the watch. One second past. Damn it. Late.

John had sworn, over and over, as if reminding himself as well as Sherlock. The watch was a promise. A tenuous link between boyhood friends that had become Sherlock's lifeline, a reminder that someone liked him. Wanted to be friends.

Emotions. Mycroft would be -- and probably was -- appalled.

"He's in here," Mike said over his shoulder as he opened the door. "Can't believe you're asking for him and you're not with the police."

"He's got something of mine," John told him, smile evident in his voice.

Sherlock straightened, his muscles freezing. "John."

"Sherlock." John narrowed in on the watch.

Sheepishly, Sherlock held it out. It was in good condition, but had taken some abuse. John turned it over in his hands.

"That thing?" Mike asked. "Seriously?"

John ran his thumb over the casing. "I knew it was in good hands." He held it out to Sherlock, smirking. "Keep it safe, yeah?"

Sherlock swallowed. "Of course."

~~~

"Where is it?"

Mycroft leaned back, putting his pen away. "I'm afraid I don't know what you mean."

John took a deep breath. "My grandfather's watch. Where is it?"

"I'll send someone for it," Mycroft admitted after a moment. "I'll have it shipped to you."

"You better," John hissed.

Mycroft waited until he was sure John was at the end of the hallway before he took out his phone.

_He wants it back._

Sherlock took a drag on his cigarette, hiding in an alley. It was cold, wherever he was. Russia, maybe. It was certainly downtrodden enough. His sort of people -- very shrewd. He fingered the watch in his pocket.

_Delay him. At all costs._

_I'm not sure how many excuses he'll buy._

_Try. You can charm politicians all day and one soldier gets the best of you? Tsk, tsk._

_John Watson is no politician._

_Try._

~~~

John swallowed hard when he saw the watch. He followed it to a very familiar hand and then an arm and finally...

"Sherlock."

Sherlock's face was tight with an apology. "Sorry."

John squeezed his hands and took a deep breath. "You bastard."

"Mycroft's excuses were flimsy."

John scoffed. "It's not that. I figured it out once he lied for the third time."

Sherlock winced. He stood up. "Shall we let both our absences lie in the past for a future together?"

John closed his eyes. "There are no nice words for men like you, Sherlock."

"But?"

John chuckled breathlessly. "After all these years, do you think I want anyone else? Could have anyone else?"

Sherlock smiled softly. "Well then. Angelo's?"

Rolling his eyes, John closed the door. "We're staying here. Less chance for either of us to discover some mad criminal plot."

"Ugh. Domestic. Don't tell me there's a roast in the oven."

John smirked. "And you'll eat every bit I give you."

"I've changed my mind. Perhaps Mycroft has a posting for me in some remote village."

"I'm sure he can make it a posting for two."

Sherlock shook his head. "So. Roast?"

"And if I can get you to sit still long enough, Doctor Who."

Sherlock held out the watch. "I'm staying now. You as well."

John put his hand over the watch so it was sandwiched between their hands. He smiled. "It's a promise. Going forward, together. Never straying. Or leaving."

Sherlock took a deep breath. "Until we are forced to part at the end of our days?"

"The other will be right behind him." John nodded and let his hand drop. "Come on. Dinner."


End file.
